


The Genesis of Power

by Synnistre



Category: The Genesis of Power
Genre: Original Story - Freeform, fandomless - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-08
Updated: 2017-05-08
Packaged: 2018-10-29 14:10:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10855602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Synnistre/pseuds/Synnistre
Summary: The Genesis of Power is a new, original story based on bits and pieces of a really old story I wrote back in sixth grade.





	The Genesis of Power

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a tower is scaled, a soul is sealed, and another falls to the past.

Cyrill had wanted to prove her worth.

And so, she did.

Climbing the Tower of Fate was not easy, especially for someone as weak as her, but she tried her hardest anyway, going through several trials and tribulations, such as the Guardians of Fate placed there by the ancients of the realm.

They were certainly powerful, and each fight was an ordeal for Cyrill, but the unique magic ability she possessed made it significantly easier than it would have been without. Without that magic, this ascension would have proved to be impossible.

Nonetheless, Cyrill climbed the tower, finally arriving at her destination: The Mark Altar. On it, she was to create a “Mark of Fate”, something that would bind her to this tower in exchange for a single courtesy to the world in the form of eradicating all its monsters, legendary or otherwise.

She offered herself to the gods, and so she was sealed in a crystalline encasement, destined to slumber for eternity.

Surely, a proper price to pay for the safety of the world.

* * *

Venii was a simple child.

The most he ever wished for was attention and, above all, the protection of everyone. As such, he began taking fencing classes one year ago, and excelled at the practice, always wanting to learn with such vigor and readiness.

Today, he went to his fencing classes with his father’s old keepsake estoc that had been a family heirloom, hoping to show it off to all of his friends there.

He was already a well-known student at the class for his talent and his apparent aptitude for learning, and he had hoped to further impress his instructors and colleagues by showing off the blade.

Venii was certainly a glutton for attention.

Walking across the road to the class building, he grew giddy with excitement. How would his friends react to the old sword? His instructors? He could barely contain himself as he opened the door.

He did so, and his instructors immediately placed their full attention on the blade. They ran toward him in surprise. Was this what he wanted?

They grabbed at the blade, telling him to “give them the sword”, and that “kids shouldn’t be handling real blades”. He stepped back, pulling the sword back from their grasp.

The blade started to shine with the luminosity of the sun. Venii and everyone in the building shielded their eyes from the sudden burst of light.

When Venii opened his eyes, he was no longer standing inside.

He was standing in a field he did not know, and it was beautiful. An enormous patch of flowers surrounded him, as if he was the center of nature. Behind him was an impossibly tall tower, something shining at its peak.

And in his hands lied the blade, still shining. It was beautiful; it shone with a rainbow of colours, the most predominant being a vibrant shade of blue. As the light dispelled itself, Venii realized that the sword was no longer old and rusty – it instead looked as if it was newly forged, seemingly sparkling in the light of day.

And, almost as if on cue with his appearance, the sky grew dark and foreboding. The light in the blade changed from that stunning rainbow to a sinister and overpowering red.

Venii closed his eyes and fell as something struck him in the back, hitting the ground hard as he flew into unconsciousness.

* * *

Venii opened his eyes. He was no longer in the field, but was instead inside, laying on a bed of surprising comfort.

He sat up, surveying his new surroundings. He was in a cabin, the walls of wooden logs with a homely smell of lumber. A bookshelf filled to the brim with novels that he had never seen, and some that he recognized as nearly ancient classics, sat in the corner near the bed he was positioned in. The bed itself was parallel to the cabin's door, and the door was of the same wooden colour as the logs that the wall consisted of. In the center of the wall to his left lied a stone hearth, burning a set of firewood gleefully.

The right wall was completely empty, save a few paintings. In the center of the room was a desk and a chair, with a few books stacked on its corner, as well as an inkwell and an empty book in the middle. In the chair was a man with brighter and slightly longer hair than Venii's, and a royal violet cloak with a hood. He looked like an old mage.

The man looked at Venii, noticing that he had awoken.

“Ah. Good to see that you are awake, child,” he said. “What is your name?”

Venii could not speak. He touched his throat in surprise, and kept trying to talk. It hurt, but not where he thought it would. His back and the back of his neck felt like they were on fire in reaction to his attempts at speaking.

“My, you are mute, then?”

He was now. Venii had no idea how to show the man any form of name or speech. He looked down.

“Then I don’t suppose you could write, child?”

Venii looked back toward the man. That was it; he could write his words. Maybe then he could learn what happened so that he could not speak. He nodded toward the man.

He stood up, only to fall back down, the pain in his back spiking in reaction to the movement.

“Ah, I would suppose you should not move with a wound such as yours… Allow me.”

The man stood, picking up his quill pen and a piece of paper from inside the desk. He handed Venii the combination, as well as a book to write on. Venii wrote his name and returned the book and pen to the man.

“Venii, is it, then? That is a wonderful name.” The man nods. “I am Haphaeus. This is my home.”

Haphaeus walked back to his desk, setting the book and paper down and placing the quill pen back in its inkwell.

“You were not in good shape when I found you. Only my magic could have saved you,” he said. So he _was_ a mage, then? Venii was curious, but unfortunately he could not ask about this magic thanks to his newfound disability. He was already starting to despise it.

“Fortunately for us both, my home was not far. I brought you here to recover. Please, feel at home, child.”

Venii laid down. Was this his new future? He fell asleep, the thought still lingering.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's the first chapter of my own, completely original story. Enjoy!


End file.
